Page 13 of Wrapped Up at the Vintage Dress Shop
Everything in Phoebe wanted to storm out of the back office where she’d gone to calm herself and tell Rosie Roberts exactly how things were going to go down. But she’d promised Freddy she’d be on her best behaviour though it turned out her best behaviour was in very short supply.
Besides, Sophy really was a people person and despite her many flaws, she was great at defusing these sorts of situations.
‘Saturday afternoons are our busiest time of the week,’ she heard Sophy say chirpily. ‘Why don’t we just do a quick pan of the shop and then I’ll take you upstairs to the atelier where we’ve got an hour between appointments?’
‘An hour?’ someone snorted. ‘Are you delulu? This is going to take way more than an hour.’
It took everything she had in the way of inner strength for Phoebe not to go postal. She even managed to smile and be gracious when she was introduced to Rosie, her manager, creative director and ‘my girlies’ – the romper suit twins, who apparently were interns.
Rosie gave Phoebe a quick but very incisive up-and-down look and immediately realised that she wasn’t somebody to mess with. ‘I love your whole vibe,’ she decreed. She held up her phone in a hand that was adorned with very long, very pink nails studded with what looked like tiny green Swarovski crystals. ‘Are you on TikTok? How many followers do you have?’
‘Oh, Phoebe doesn’t do social media,’ Anita piped up from where she was standing outside one of the changing cubicles with some looks she’d pulled for a customer who was double Spanxing in preparation. ‘She says it’s show . . .’
‘We stan an analogue queen,’ breathed Jinx of the greige catsuit. Phoebe wasn’t sure what they meant by that but it didn’t seem to mean anything that bad.
She was more concerned about the time. They’d been faffing for over an hour, shooting Rosie walking up to the shop and through the door countless times and she hadn’t even looked at the clothes Phoebe had selected. Phoebe had a bride-to-be arriving in fifteen minutes for a second fitting and so she pulled Sophy into the back office for an urgent consult.
‘I can’t have anything interfere with my brides,’ Phoebe said in a forbidding tone. ‘They’re choosing the most important dress of their lives. You’re going to have to hold Rosie off for another hour.’
‘It will probably take her another hour just to film the fit check of what she’s wearing,’ Sophy said with an eye-roll.
It was very disconcerting to bond with Sophy over a mutual irritation.
‘Maybe she can shoot her party looks on the patio outside?’ Phoebe suggested. ‘It’s not that cold. Professional models shoot bikinis in the middle of winter, don’t they?’
‘She’s an influencer. They’re much more demanding than professional models.’
It seemed as if Sophy was regretting a lot of her recent life choices. Phoebe didn’t have the heart to point this out. She’d do it later when the current crisis had been averted. ‘Well, at least we don’t have to pay her like a professional model,’ she said, trying to see the silver lining, but all she could see was the sudden way that Sophy ducked her head so she wouldn’t have to look Phoebe in the eye.
‘We’re paying her,’ Phoebe guessed grimly.
Sophy nodded. ‘Freddy agreed.’
‘I do not know where Freddy’s head is at lately.’ Phoebe clutched her chest at this new betrayal as Bea stuck her head through the door.
‘Pheebs, your bride is here and, Sophy, Rosie wants you to get her some more bubble tea,’ she said apologetically.
‘Deal with this, Sophy, or I will,’ Phoebe said.
Sophy knew that it wasn’t an idle threat. Her head hung low and she groaned.
Phoebe had no sympathy for her. It was all she could do to plaster on a wide smile as she ventured back into the shop to fetch her bride.
‘Padma! So good to see you again,’ Phoebe said, clasping her client’s hands. ‘I cannot wait for you to try on the dress.’
Phoebe wasn’t laying on the fake flattery either. Padma, to honour her father’s Indian heritage, wanted to wear a red wedding dress. Charles and Phoebe had sourced a beautiful scarlet crêpe and satin draped 1940s gown from a dealer in Hollywood. Even though it had been a little too long and a little too tight, the first time Padma had tried it on, she, Cress and her mother had all cried.
Phoebe hadn’t cried because well, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d cried, but she had gasped in wonder and there had been an unfamiliar prickling sensation in the general area of her eyeballs.
‘I haven’t had a single carb in the last four weeks,’ Padma said as she followed Phoebe up the stairs. ‘I hope it will fit now.’
As well as being beautiful and willing to take a sartorial risk when it came to her wedding dress, Padma had vowed to swear off bread, rice, potatoes and pasta, not to mention chocolate, until she was on her honeymoon.
It made both Phoebe’s life and her job much easier.
Cress was also someone who made Phoebe’s job easier. Not like their former alterations lady, the redoubtable Reenie, who’d worked for Hardy Amies back in the day but had refused to be based on site. She was also a heavy smoker so all the dresses used to come back reeking of Benson & Hedges.
But now, though Rosie Roberts and her hangers-on had been quite the distraction, Phoebe remembered that she was furious with Cress. Not just furious but very disappointed and judging from the pinched look on Cress’s usually open and expressive face, she was cross with Phoebe too.
